


Large and Powerful Rows of Teeth

by bloomblood



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Tony Stark, Vampire Peter Parker, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomblood/pseuds/bloomblood
Summary: In an alternate world, Tony’s cock isn’t all Peter’s found himself sucking.





	Large and Powerful Rows of Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic has been backdated to match its original publication date[on tumblr.](https://bloomblood.tumblr.com/post/186267115845/large-and-powerful-rows-of-teeth)_

“Did you know that vampire jumping spiders don’t have the mouths to drink human blood straight from the source, so, they like, go after mosquitos to get it? It’s actually pretty cool,” Peter said from across the table, where he hadn’t missed a beat in the flow of his tinkering. Tony’s plate of lunch had been reduced to sandwich crumbs. Peter’s food, however, stood untouched. “And,” Peter continued, “they attract their mates with the smell. The blood. They smell like the blood when they eat, and—”

“Speaking of eating”—Tony set his tools upon the same table—“you haven’t touched a _thing_ you’ve been offered here.”

“I have, it’s just…. I’ve been more thirsty than hungry, Mr. Stark.”

A sigh seeped from Tony. He preferred to be called by his first name now that he and Peter worked closely, but Peter was still Peter—powers or not. “Kid.” And Tony’s palms pressed the table, and he leaned as he said with concern, “You need a doctor.”

“I’m _perfectly_ fine, Mr. Stark. No need to worry.”

To prove it, he took two bites from the sandwich, appeasing Tony just some, until later, that is, when Tony heard him retching behind the bathroom door.

It went on like that at the compound.

A week passed. Two. Peter conceded that seeing the on-site physician may do him good, but once they approached the doctor’s doors, Peter fled.

Tony delved into his work that night. Peter was, at this point, home with May, sleeping, but Tony couldn’t help but feel stalked. He thought of Peter’s enthusiasm about the blood and the spiders, which hadn’t slaked since his first mention of them.

The next time Happy brought Peter to Tony’s lab, Tony would speak. It was time to be a responsible adult.

Instead: Peter looked pale in the light, and Tony said nothing; Peter refused his food, and still, Tony said nothing.

Sweat pasted Tony’s tank to his back. If Peter could hear his heart, its rhythm would embarrass them both.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked up from his armor.

“Have you tasted it?”

Squeezing the wrench he’d been using, Tony stiffened. “Tasted _what_?” Though he knew. He simply couldn’t acknowledge the blatant absurdity.

“Your blood.”

Tony snuffed. He now held on to the tool for his own protection.

Later, after much awkward silence, Peter went home to May and Tony showered.

He laid in his bed with the lamp on.

He ordered FRIDAY to lock him in for the night.

In time, Tony began to drift and fell in a dream, wherein Peter had walked on his ceiling, over his bed. The nightmare spooked him awake and he lay supine in the dark. A pointy shape began to descend near his feet.

Curses, then ineffectual wrestling followed the moment Tony was touched. He bit out Peter’s name between his teeth. A bolt of pain struck his neck, then it was finished.

The instant Peter’s immovable weight left him, Tony clambered to his feet. The lights bloomed on. Peter was standing away from the bed, flushed.

“What did you _do_?” Tony’s voice was hot; above a whisper. “Peter. I’m _bleeding_!”

“I—I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I—”

“You _left_. I walked you to the goddamn door!”

“About that, so…. I kinda hung around, outside the compound.” Peter sighed. He swiped at his mouth, where—to Tony’s alarm—blood had been. “I thought I could do it to you while you were sleeping.”

“While I was sleeping.”

Tony snatched up the sweaty shirt he’d worked in, pressed it to his throat. He grimaced when he checked it for blots of red.

“I can fix it,” Peter said. “Just let me see.”

Before Tony could speak to refuse him, Peter was shoving him down to a seat on the bed, climbing atop him, onto his lap.

His legs bent at both sides of Tony’s. His joggers were bulged with dick at the very center, as if what he took from Tony had aroused him to an erection. Tony forced his eyes away from it. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, which read 2:18 AM.

“Peter….”

“Let me see it.”

Tony shook his head when Peter pried the bloodied shirt-rag away.

“It’s not bad.”

“You _bit_ me.”

“Sorry….”

Tony knew Peter was insincere.

“It’s not even that bad. Just a scratch.”

“A scratch.”

Peter nodded.

Tony’s fingers flexed with the urge to _squeeze_ him on his backside and waist.

“I won’t do it again, Mr. Stark. Not…. Not without permission. I mean, like, if you said I could do it, then….”

Tony pressed the shirt back to his wound. He looked at Peter, whose cheeks were bright with Tony’s blood and abashment, and something loosened then, under his ribs.

“Alright,” Tony said. His voice was thick; low. “But only when I say.”

“Can I…? Now…?”

Tony’s heart flipped. He nodded, nonetheless, and his own tent formed as Peter lifted his heavy arm between them.

_“Gently.”_

“Okay,” Peter said softly.

Tony’s jaw clenched as he was pressed with large and powerful rows of teeth.


End file.
